


The Importance of Research

by aslytherspuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Relationships, F/F, Families of Choice, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Libraries, Sexuality, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21784813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aslytherspuff/pseuds/aslytherspuff
Summary: Hermione blinked.  "You're right, Ron.  I've been doing it wrong all this time."When Hermione finds something that she doesn't know, Ron points out that the library isn't always the best place to do research.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 2
Kudos: 127





	The Importance of Research

Ron announced his arrival at Hermione's townhouse, but received no response.

“Hermione? Oi, Mione!”

Still nothing. Kreacher might be a bloody pain in Ron's arse, but at least he always knew where Harry was.

He tried the sitting room, dining room, and kitchen. No Hermione, but there were a box of homemade scones on the countertop, so he grabbed two to fortify him on his search.

Garden? No. Office? No. Library?

Ron peered around the door cautiously. If Hermione was in the library, she'd hex him on sight for bringing food in.

Hermione was sitting at a table placed between “Wizarding Customs” and “Muggle Sociology”, books spread all over the table, and piles of more books littering the floor around her as if she were trying to build an impenetrable fortress of books alone. Her hair stood on end in a halo of living, crackling frizz. Her face was tired and drawn, her eyes wild, her cheeks unhealthily flushed. She was still in the work robes he'd seen her in on Friday.

“Uh, Mione?” Ron whispered.

Her head snapped up and a wand was levelled at him before he could blink.

Then her whole body sagged. “Oh, Ron, it's just you.”

Ron edged his way inside, concealing the half-eaten scone in a pocket of his robes. “Yeah. Just me. Harry and I were expecting you for lunch.”

Hermione didn't even look up from the book she'd returned her attention to. “No, Ronald. I said Sunday.”

She'd lost track of her days. Again.

“Today is Sunday,” he said, quietly, worry curling itself into a tight knot in his chest. “What's going on, Mione?”

Hermione seemed to collapse in on herself and, for a moment, all Ron could see was the scared little girl they'd saved from a troll nearly two decades ago.

Stepping carefully around the piles of books, Ron made his way over to Hermione and pulled her into what Harry called a “Weasley hug”.

Harry said it reminded him of Mum's cooking, summers at the Burrow, and family. He'd never really asked Hermione, but she'd always seemed to appreciate his hugs, nonetheless. This time, she burst into tears. Ron froze. Tearful women weren't really his forte; he was a dissolve-tension-with-humour kind of guy.

“Mione,” he said, still hugging her tightly, “has something happened?”

He racked his brain for what could possibly have her in this state. Some new legislation? A failing in old legislation? Unexpected information from the Department of Mysteries? All plausible. But Harry said he'd spoken to her after work on Friday and she'd seemed fine.

Hermione shook her head, smearing mascara across the shoulder of Ron's robes. “No,” she hiccupped. “Nothing new.”

Nothing _new_? What the bloody hell was that supposed to mean?

“What's wrong?” he said, in his very best I'm-being-understanding voice. He'd had to use it a fair few times with Harry; it was honed to a fine art now.

“I don't  _know_ !”

Ron flinched slightly but played it off as adjusting his footing around the books at his feet.

“You, ah... You don't know what's wrong?” Maybe this was one of those 'girl' things. He should get Ginny. Or chocolate! Dad always brought Mum chocolate.

“ _No_ , Ronald! What's wrong is that I  _don't know_ !”

It took him a few minutes to work that one out, and even longer to think of a response that wasn't likely to get him hexed.

“Can I help?”

Hermione burst into hysterical laughter, still hiccuping and occasionally sobbing as she cackled madly into his chest. Maybe she'd finally cracked. That would explain a lot.

“I very much doubt that, Ron,” she gasped, managing to sound cross and condescending despite her apparent descent into madness.

Ron patted her gently on the back. “Could you tell me what's wrong?” he tried, cautiously. When several seconds passed and he remained unhexed, he chanced a quick glance at the books on the table.

“Hermione,” he began slowly, “why are there naked ladies?” 

Hermione wailed something unintelligible into his chest. Ron shifted slightly so that the side of her face, not the front, was pressed against him. “Sorry, Mione, didn't catch that.”

Hermione huffed angrily. “I  _said_ , Ron, that I can't work out if I like them.”

Ron thought he deserved a fucking medal for holding in the laugh that climbed up his windpipe. “You  _what_ ?” he choked out. The stinging hex hit him before he even closed his mouth. Fair enough, he supposed. He deserved that one.

“Sorry, Mione. What are you trying to find out if you like?” That seemed like a nice, safe, innocent question.

“ _Women_ , Ronald. Obviously.”

Ron could safely say that this was the weirdest conversation he'd ever had. And that included the one where Hagrid tried to get a dragon to call him “Mummy”.

“By looking at books?” he asked incredulously.

Yep. He'd deserved that hex, too.

“Of  _course_ by looking at books. What else would I do?”

“Dunno. I just kissed someone,” he muttered facetiously, then tensed for another hex.

It never came.

Hermione blinked up at him. “You're right, Ron. I've been doing it wrong all this time.” She started gathering up and reshelving the books with an almost manic energy. “How could I have been so  _stupid_ ?”

Ron stayed very quiet and very still. That was  _definitely_ a trick question. Luckily, Hermione had all but forgotten his existence.

“How could I have failed to consider all of the variables? The science is  _right there_ . Men are visually motivated. Women are not. How on  _earth_ could I have thought I could come to an accurate conclusion without conducting a more thorough study?”

Books all reshelved, Hermione spun on the spot and apparrated away, leaving Ron, alone and open-mouthed, in the middle of her library.

Ron stepped out of the Floo still shell-shocked.

Harry looked up from his magazine in alarm. “Ron? Is she okay?”

Ron blinked dazedly and nodded, brow furrowed. “Yeah. Think so.”

Harry was on his feet in an instant. “You  _think so_ ?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah.”

Harry could feel panic building in his chest as he grabbed Ron's hand. “Where is she?”

“She went to do some research.”

“Went  _where_ , Ron? To research  _what_ ?” Harry grabbed both of Ron's arms and shook him. “ _Where is Hermione_ ?” He blinked, startled, then burst into gales of laughter, tears streaming down his red cheeks.

Harry stepped back, alarmed. “Ronald Billius Potter! You tell me what's going on right this instant!”

The near-perfect imitation of Mrs Weasley sobered Ron up instantly.

“She can't work out if she likes women,” he said, straight-faced, before remembering her saying that same thing, all exasperation and righteous indignation, and collapsing back into uncontrollable giggles. Luckily, this time, Harry was laughing right alongside him.

“What did you say to her?” Harry wheezed out, clutching at a stitch in his side.

“Told her I worked it out by kissing you. Now she's gone...” Ron gasped heavily for breath, “gone to do  _research_ .”

This set off the laughter anew, and they leaned heavily on each other for several moments as they fought to get their amusement under control.

Eventually, Harry wiped the tears from his cheeks, took a deep breath, and threw and handful of Floo powder into the flames, calling out a familiar address.

Tonks' head appeared in the fireplace. “Wotcher, Harry?”

“Is Hermione there?”

Tonks' hair turned as red as the flames. “Why?”

Ron snickered. He tried to muffle it behind his hand but failed spectacularly. Tonks' eyes narrowed. “Fine. Yes, she is.”

Harry smirked and winked at the indignant witch. “We won't keep you, then. Have fun!” He shut off the Floo before Tonks could splutter out her reply.

“Now to tell Fred and George we won that bet.”


End file.
